


Don't Take Him Away

by London_The_Loser



Category: Be More Chill, Dear Evan Hansen
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Angst, Cutting, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Intense, M/M, Self Harm, parenting, very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:00:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/London_The_Loser/pseuds/London_The_Loser
Summary: We love him more than anything, so why would you take him away?





	Don't Take Him Away

The air felt suffocating. The silence thickening the atmosphere. The low hum of the moving car creating the most silent white noise one had ever heard. Michael couldn't stand it. The pressure in his lungs as the tightening air strained against him and the river rushed faster and faster and faster and it hurt-  
Michael took a lengthy yet silent breath in, glancing over at his best friend sitting next to him. He could see the discomfort in Jeremy's face and immediately felt guilty. Sparing a quick glance towards the front of the car, he self consciously brought his knees closer to his chest. 

Jeremy felt like he didn't belong here. He didn't belong here, he shouldn't be here. But there was no other way other than out the car window. Every now and then he would spare a peek over at Michael, just to make sure he was holding it together. Every time he would find the same blank expression and stiff shoulders, red-clad body pressed against the car door. This wasn't an awkward silence. This was worse, a silence that felt menacing, like a warning with no meaning that filled you with dread. Now all Jeremy could do was wait for whatever was coming. 

Evan sat stalk still, hands on the steering wheel, unsure of how to handle the situation. He grip was tight as he desperately used it as a way to ground himself as his tired brain racked all the possible options of how to be useful. How to do something and help him and if he even could. If he ever could. If he ever had. Maybe Evan really had done nothing, maybe that's why he was gradually getting worse. Maybe that's why when Evan's eyes darted over to look at him his eyes were pressed shut and his nails were digging into his palms as his fists clenched tighter and tighter. Maybe he did that. Maybe he was just so terrible at helping him that he was doing the exact opposite. 

"I'm sorry."

It was quiet. But the deathly silence seemed to be greatly disrupted. The words ripped through the air, making Evan and Jeremy jump. Michael was still stock still, knees wrapped tightly in his arms. The words all sunk in slowly, and as Jeremy stole one more glance towards Michael he could see his eyes gloss over. Jeremy wanted nothing more than to reach over and grab his best friends hand, help him. But they were all too lost and torn to piece themselves back together enough to grasp hold of each other. The river water was too strong, the raging wind ripping away their rationality and ability to function. 

"Darling it wasn't your fault-"

"When won't it be? Goddamnit Evan, of course it's my fault!" 

Hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel, the soft leather raw from nails digging in and palms creating friction. 

"They don't mean anything... you're better than that, you can't let them get to you-"

"But I do!"

Jeremy knew things. He had pieced things together at a young age when Michael had started sharing small story's that seemed to show a much darker side to his dad. Evan was always the one to desperately try to sew everything back together. To protect his husband. To protect his son. To be there for both of them and provide for them. Michaels dad used to scare Jeremy, his tall form and his angry eyes, his deep frown lines and defensive demeanor and terrifying outbursts. It wasn't until Jeremy started to grow and learn more about his emotions did he notice others. He noticed the way Michaels dad flinched back when there was sudden movement or loud noises. Or the way he avoided talking to people. The look in his eyes when he said something rude or harsh, and the way he drew his shoulders forward in shame and bowed his head when he snapped, lost it, broke. The times he got a quick glance at the criss-cross lines marking his wrists. And he wasn't scared anymore. Because Connor Murphy was more broken than one would ever see if they took one quick glance. 

"I do..."

Michael hated it. He hated everything about the sound of his dad's voice. The hurt, the defeat, the pain. It meant he had given up. He hates when he loses control. Michael hates that he has to see the scars on his arms and chest, hates, even more, when they're fresh. He hates it because it means his dad is breaking, and when the people Michael loves break, he breaks along with them. 

"Connor... that's not your fault... you can't help it"

"God, so it's not my fault that I'm so pathetic I can't even control myself enough to hold back a punch?"

"He grabbed Michael, you were just trying to protect us."

"What right do I have Evan, to protect anyone! I hurt people Evan. I can't... fix anything. I just break things. And you all know it."

"That's not true Con-"

"I hit you!"

And somehow, the river rushed faster, the freezing water crashing around his insides until Michael couldn't breathe and river water was streaming down his face. Because it was true wasn't it. Connor had hit Evan. And Michael. Not just once, might he add. 

"That wasn't... you didn't mean it.... it was an accident and-"

"Oh god does it even matter if I mean it or not? I'm hurting you! I just make your life harder, you're just to damn stupid to accept it!"

It only ever happened on two occasions, Connor was high out of his mind, or he was having a breakdown. He had punched Michael in the stomach once, shoved him rather violently into the staircase, and kicked him in the leg. Evan had been slapped, pushed, kicked, and punched. It was a rare occurrence, but enough to be unhealthy. Jeremy knew of only a few situations that Michael had explained in a broken voice over the phone as he tried desperately to hold back his tears. 

"Connor Murphy you can't just-"

"You should find someone better for you. Maybe I should just leave. I-I can get my stuff out of the house by tomorrow and find somewhere to stay and..."

Jeremy's head snapped up. Connor had mentioned leaving, had mentioned staying in a different room or leaving for a couple of days. But it was always more of a lost idea or a "just in case situation". Jeremy didn't want Connor to leave. Connor couldn't leave. It doesn't matter if Connor lost it sometimes, he was Michael's dad, and Michael needed his dad. He needed his dad to stay and his other dad to stay composed. Because the truth was Evan was pitifully dependant on Connor. If he ever decided to leave Jeremy could just imagine Evan locked in his room for days until Michael and Jeremy would have to break down his door just to drag him out and make him eat. Jeremy knew by now that Michaels parents were both far past "even remotely okay"

"No Connor if you leave then you'll have nowhere to go and they will turn you in and you can't go to jail they'll send you to jail-"

"Well did you ever think I should go to jail? We've been running away from the cops every time I lost it in public, but don't you think if someone can barely keep themselves calm enough to refrain from breaking someone's nose, they should be locked up?"

"It's not like that-"

"IM A MONSTER EVAN!"

But the terrifying part wasn't the fact that his scream ripped through the car like a tornado. No. It was the fact that he sounded like a monster. He looked like a monster. His eyes wild and his hands flying up to haphazardly yank at his tangled hair. Because looking at him now, hearing his now, seeing him punch someone square in the face, seeing him yank his arms free wildly from the arms of Evan like a rabid animal.... well Connor Murphy looked like a monster. 

Maybe he was.

Maybe he has been.

Maybe he should be treated like one.

But the three of them? 

Well as the silence poured back into the air, Evan glanced behind him at the boys, who stared intently back. And they all knew what they were thinking. 

Because in that one look, they all made a promise.

No matter how much Connor Murphy acted like one, Evan, Michael, Jeremy,

They swore never to treat him like one. 

But, as they come to learn, that single bond created by that one pact... well, it would only become harder... and harder to keep. 

Maybe the crimson dripping down Connor's palm would find itself there again, just this time not from his own meticulously bitten nails...


End file.
